


unforgivable

by Aqualisier



Series: Cause and Effect [1]
Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 13:18:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15686208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aqualisier/pseuds/Aqualisier
Summary: "For a guy who hates plants, you sure know a lot about them."In which Kazuya repots some flowers and receives an impromptu botany lesson.





	unforgivable

**Author's Note:**

> in which my persona 2 is showing. I have a few more oneshots like this saved, will probably polish and upload some of them at some point.

"Naoya, can you help me repot these flowers?"

Naoya looked up from his university homework to see his twelve-year-old cousin struggling to carry a medium-sized pot of pretty blue flowers in one arm and an empty, stylish vase in the other. He figured he should probably ask _what even is this, kazuya_ , but more pressingly...

"You're going to get dirt all over the carpet." He lifted his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Besides, you don't need my help for something that simple. Just dig around the roots. Leave me be, I'm busy."

Kazuya looked at him, completely deadpan. "Right, I forgot. You hate plants." He put the pot and vase down on the kotatsu Naoya had his laptop on--it was the nearest available flat surface, and he probably _would_ get dirt all over the carpet if he continued just lugging them around. He doubted Naoya would be extremely upset with him or anything, but it was still more trouble than it was worth. "Do we have any small shovels or anything, or should I just grab a spoon from the kitchen?"

"Not as far as I know, but you'll need something to break the upper layer of soil as well. A kitchen spoon won't be enough--that's why shovels have a spade shape." He didn't look up from his computer as he spoke.

"Got it. Thanks." 

He left the room momentarily, then returned about a minute later with a soup spoon, a hammer, and a nail. Definitely not exactly a typical set of gardening equipment, but his younger cousin _was_ always one to think outside the box. Naoya observed him from around the side of his computer screen, glancing in his direction every now and again as he broke apart the soil and began teasing free the roots. It was slow, and painful to watch, but Kazuya was determined.

By the time about a third of the plant was free, Naoya finally spoke up. "Are you going to explain yourself?" he asked.

"It's from Yuzu," Kazuya replied, concentration unwavering.

"Ah. That explains everything."

He glowered at him. "She bought a potted flower plant for me earlier, but I didn't like the cheap pot it came in, so I went out and bought a vase to put it in my room. I thought it would look nice on my dresser." He deposited a few more spoonfuls of soil into the vase in question. "Yuzu's been acting weird around me lately... I miss how things used to be."

"Is that so..." Naoya looked at the plant more closely. It didn't seem like a typical flower pot someone might buy for a prospective lover; it was more houseplant than bouquet. But, Yuzu was inexperienced with matters of love, he supposed. "Odd of her to pick nemophila, of all flowers. Usually one would expect roses or tulips."

"Is that what it's called?" Kazuya gently poked one of the blossoms. "All I know is that she said it matched my eyes. Do blue roses even exist?"

"Not in nature," he said, straightening his glasses with one hand. "Blue is an uncommon color in plants. Horticulturalists have tried to artificially produce blue roses, but their efforts have been unsuccessful. In response to commercial demand there have been dyes produced to make white roses appear as such, but it's something of a luxury. The same goes for tulips and other popular flower species, for that matter."

"Huh." Kazuya broke apart some more soil around the edges. "For a guy who hates plants, you sure know a lot about them."

Naoya laughed under his breath, then returned his attention to the computer screen. "I know a lot about a lot of things."

Kazuya eyed him briefly. "I've noticed that about you." He resumed digging--the roots were small and delicate, so he had to be careful to free them gently. "What's so strange about Nemo--whatever you called it."

" _Nemophila_." He didn't look up. "You're familiar with flower language, I assume?"

Kazuya stopped momentarily, and gave his cousin a flat stare. "You're not doing the rumors about your sexuality any help, Naoya," he said, deadpan.

Naoya seemed utterly unperturbed by the comment. "I'm not going to dignify that with a response. Back in Victorian England it was practiced by both men and women, often to send messages."

"But we're not _in_ Victorian England."

"Then my perception of time must be worsening more than I thought."

Kazuya looked down, then back up at him as he actually processed what Naoya had said. "Wait, what does _that_ mean?"

Naoya laughed again, as if he were in on an inside joke Kazuya wasn't. He seemed to do that a lot, actually. "Pay it no mind. As I was saying, there are substantial differences between Japanese and Western interpretations of flower language, but the meaning of Nemophila is roughly the same in both. 'Success is everywhere.' A nice gesture, but not what I imagine she was trying to convey." He straightened his posture. "Though, it does have an often forgotten meaning of 'I forgive you.' Have you wronged Yuzu in any way lately?"

"Not that I'm aware of." He loosened the last few of the roots, and carefully deposited the flower plant into the vase. "I think she just bought it because it looked nice. So now I just put the rest of the dirt in the vase too, right?"

"That's right, but if you want it to thrive you'll want to apply fresh soil and water it regularly. But not too much, or else you'll drown it," he added. "Same for sunlight."

"I don't know if it's worth so much trouble," he said. "Flowers don't live that long, do they?"

"Some don't," Naoya said. "Others bloom again every year. All species of nemophila are annual, however, so it won't last longer than the season."

"Oh." He looked down at it sadly--at the small, fragile blossoms. "I guess I'll take care of it until it dies and then find something else to put in the vase. Thanks for the help."

Naoya didn't respond beyond a _hmm_ of acknowledgement, and Kazuya put away his tools in the now-empty ceramic pot before picking up both and heading to the doorway. Before he left the room, however, he turned back to face Naoya.

"Hey Naoya, you said it means forgiveness, right?"

"...It's less widely known today than the meaning of success, but yes." He looked up. "Is there anyone you're intending to forgive?"

"Well, no, but..." He shuffled uncomfortably. "It's strange that a flower with such a deep meaning would be so short-lived, and that that's the meaning that would be forgotten."

Naoya said nothing for a moment, then slowly he looked down, away from Kazuya, back to his laptop. "It's because there's nothing to be ostentatiously exaggerated. Forgiveness is something people aren't often willing to express."

"I guess that makes sense." Kazuya's gaze lingered on the nemophila plant for a moment, then flitted briefly to Naoya, whose eyes were obscured by the computer screen reflected in his glasses. He bit his lip, said, "Thanks again," and left without another word.

Several moments passed after Kazuya left the room, before Naoya stopped typing, closed his eyes, and exhaled deeply. Some dirt had spilled on the other end of the kotatsu after all, but he supposed it was to be expected. He could just call Kazuya back in and have him take responsibility, he supposed, but he stood up and circled around to the other end of the table. There wasn't so much that he couldn't just sweep it up with his hands.

A single nemophila blossom had fallen near the edge.

It seemed to wither the moment Naoya picked it up. He crushed it in his palm and went immediately back to work.


End file.
